


In the Cold Light of Day

by jane_x80



Series: Unlovable [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:32:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5455034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_x80/pseuds/jane_x80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what happens the day after Unlovable. The aftermath of Jeanne Benoit's return and then Tony's breakdown. Gibbs needs to convince Tony that he is not unlovable in the cold light of day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Cold Light of Day

**Author's Note:**

> I would definitely recommend reading [Unlovable](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5355569) first.

The ringing of a cell phone wakes Gibbs up. He is disoriented – in an unfamiliar bed and unable to move because a warm body is curled around him, pinning him down. After a moment he realizes that he is lying on his back in Tony’s bed and Tony's body is practically completely on top of him - head and part of his torso on his chest, arm wrapped securely around his body, one long leg thrown over both of his. The room is dark, but Tony has excellent blinds. His internal clock tells him that it is morning, and late, at least for him.

Gibbs yawns and stretches, and Tony mumbles something into his chest and moves to tuck his face into the crook of Gibbs’ neck. Gibbs smiles to himself. This is exactly how he would like to wake up every day for the rest of his life. It’s an amazing realization. He drops a kiss in Tony’s hair and holds him close. Long minutes pass, with Gibbs ignoring his full bladder.

The phone rings again, the sound coming from the living room. Sighing, Gibbs gently disentangles himself from the still soundly sleeping Tony, ignoring the mumbled sleepy protests, and scoots out of bed. Rule 3 is a difficult one to break. He makes it to the living room in time to see that it is Tony’s cell phone ringing. He cannot read the caller ID but McGee’s face is flashing on it, Gibbs assumes that the caller must be McGee.

He answers. “Gibbs.”

“Umm Boss? Did I dial the wrong number?” McGee sounds confused.

“Were you trying to reach DiNozzo?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“This is his phone.”

“Right. We do have the day off, right?”

“Yep.”

“Um, is Tony there?”

“Yes. He’s sleeping.”

“Is he OK?”

“Yeah.”

Silence. “Oh, OK. Gee Boss, will you ask him to call me back when he wakes up?”

“Sure.” Gibbs grunts and ends the call, wondering what McGee must think about him answering Tony’s phone. He smiles. McGee’s head might pop right off if he even suspects the real reason why Gibbs is answering Tony’s phone.

He pads to the bathroom, relieves himself, and decides to take a shower. He feels a guilty pleasure, using Tony’s body wash and shampoo, it makes him a little giddy to smell like Tony. He dries himself and pads into Tony’s giant walk-in closet. The man was definitely a clothes horse. He goes through a chest of drawers and finds some of Tony’s comfortable clothes. He picks out one of Tony’s Ohio State University t-shirts and clean socks. Again, that guilty feeling about not just smelling like Tony now, but also wearing his clothes. He is unable to make himself wear Tony’s underwear – perhaps when they are on more stable footing he might do so.

As it is, he puts his jeans back on and goes commando. He goes back to look at the sleeping figure in the bedroom. Tony is now hugging the pillow that Gibbs had used. Gibbs leans down and kisses Tony, smiling at the soft sound of pleasure that Tony makes in his sleep. Then he pads into the kitchen and spends twenty minutes figuring out the terribly complicated coffee machine there. He’s determined to let Tony sleep as long as he needs to and afterwards, well, he supposes, what happens afterwards will be up to Tony.

It is afternoon before Tony stirs. Eyes still closed, he stretches his body, cataloguing all of the aching spots. He is no longer a young stud and flying in military transports to and from South Sudan, not to mention the action he saw there is making itself known. He jerks as his calf seizes in a painful cramp, and with a muttered epithet he tries to massage the pain away.

“Cramp?” Gibbs’ voice from the doorway makes Tony jump, and his calf seizes up even worse.

“Fuck!” Tony growls, trying to ease the muscle.

Gibbs pulls the blankets off Tony, hands him a glass of water and orders him to drink while he begins massaging Tony’s calf.

“You’re dehydrated. Drink all that water. It’ll help with the cramp,” he tells the younger man as he presses on the tense muscles, rubbing soothingly.

Tony obeys, chugging the water, then lies back, enjoying the feeling of Gibbs’ hands on his leg. Even before the cramp is soothed away, his erection tents his boxers.

Slowly, Gibbs works his way up, massaging Tony’s calf, and when the cramp has passed, he moves up to his thighs, and Tony starts moaning – Gibbs hands are massaging his legs. And not just in a you’re-in-pain-let-me-help-you way, but now more like a you’re-yummier-than-cowboy-steaks-and-coffee-put-together kind of way. And all of a sudden it sinks in to Tony’s brain – Gibbs is massaging his legs in a far from platonic fashion, he’s openly moaning also in a far from platonic fashion, and boy howdy, does his dick like Gibbs’ hands on him in this far from platonic fashion.

His sudden scramble away from Gibbs up against the headboard of his bed surprises them both.

“Tony?” Gibbs asks.

Tony looks scared out of his wits. His brain is sleep fogged and he’s just woken up from the weirdest, yet best dream ever – and here is his boss, in his apartment, taking liberties with his body?

“Tony? Are you with me?”

“Boss?” he practically squeaks out. “What are you doing here?”

“Tony? Do you remember me coming over last night?”

Tony takes a minute to think about the past few days. All of a sudden it hits him – he’d confessed his love to Gibbs, and could he trust his memory? Did Gibbs tell him he loved him back? And did he get PTSD out of worry for him? Were these just dreams? Or could he just be concussed again?

“No, Tony, you don’t have a concussion,” Gibbs' wry response tells him that he actually said the last part out loud.

“So…it wasn’t a dream?”

“Nope.”

Tony smacks the back of his head against his headboard, a solid thunk.

“Are you _trying_ to get a concussion by doing that?”

“I don’t know. Um…” Tony takes a deep breath, “so you came over last night. And we talked. Did I quit?”

“I didn’t accept your resignation. Besides you never wrote the letter.”

“I have a standing copy on my hard drive, for emergencies.”

“You have a standing copy of your letter of resignation on your computer?” Gibbs repeats, surprised and angry. He frowns at Tony who has the grace to look guilty about that. “We’ll come back to this,” Gibbs growls, knowing that now is not the time to talk about the fact that his Senior Field Agent, his trusted right hand man of fifteen years has a standing copy of his letter of resignation on his hard drive.

“Right. Um, did you sleep in my bed with me last night or did I hallucinate that too?”

“Pretty sure what you’re remembering is all true.”

“Even…?”

“The part where I told you I love you?”

“Yeah?”

“All true.”

“Even the…?”

“The part where you told me you loved me?”

Tony nods.

“That happened.”

“And I really didn’t have to quit?”

“Nope.”

“What about the chest pains thing? Physically you’re OK?”

“Yep,” Gibbs says, making the p sound pop.

“Oh,” Tony begins running his fingers through his hair and tugging it anxiously.

“Wait here.” Gibbs tells him, although it is not an order, but more like a request. Despite needing to hit the head, Tony sits, scrunched up against the headboard, legs pulled up against his body, and resists the urge to start chewing on his fingernails.

Gibbs returns with a steaming mug of coffee and Tony’s cell phone. Calmly he hands the mug to the younger man and throws the phone to him in an underhand toss. Tony’s reflexes kick in and he easily catches the phone one-handed.

“Drink your coffee. Call McGee and Abby. I answered your phone because I didn’t want them to worry about you, told them you were sleeping and that you were OK. When you’re ready, come on out. We can talk some more, or I can take you out to lunch. Or both.” Gibbs places a knee on the bed and leans in to Tony, casually kissing his lips. “Good morning, beautiful. Love you.”

Then he leaves the bedroom, and Tony sits on the bed for a moment, completely dumbstruck. Did that just happen? He puts a finger to his lips. Gibbs just kissed him!

Absently he sips the coffee in his hand. Gibbs has fixed it exactly the way he likes it, sweet and all hazelnutty. He wonders, did he return from Sudan into an alternate universe? Sipping his coffee, he dials McGee.

“Boss?” McGee asks cautiously.

“It’s me, Probie,” his voice is still husky with sleep.

“Tony! Did you just get up?”

“Yeah. Are you OK?”

“I’m fine. Are you OK? I’ve called you twice today and both times Gibbs answered your phone.”

“What did he say?”

“That you were sleeping and that he would get you to call me back when you woke up. Did you get hurt, Tony? Are you hiding an injury? Is that why the Boss is there? Or are you at Gibbs’ house?”

“I’m at my place. I’m not hurt.”

“And why’s the Boss there?”

“Um. I’m not sure,” Tony knows he sounds a little panicked.

“Are you freaking out there, Tony?”

“Yeah, kinda.” Tony pauses, biting his lip. “McGee? Nothing’s weird with you, right? You’re still with Delilah, and not some strange woman or something?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you experiencing anything different now than before we left for Sudan?”

“No. Everything is the same.”

“Huh. So scratch the alternate universe theory.”

“Um, seriously Tony, are you concussed?”

“I asked Gibbs that not five minutes ago and I’m pretty sure he said I was fine.”

McGee laughs. “Well, I’m glad to hear your voice, Tony. You doing OK? With the whole Jeanne Benoit coming back thing?”

Tony blows out a breath. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “That part is fine. I think.”

“What part isn’t fine? Are you still drunk or something?”

“I’m fine McGee. I’m not drunk or even hungover. Thanks for checking in with me.”

“Want to have dinner later? You can vent. I’m a good listener. I know this Jeanne thing has got to be one hell of a mindfuck.”

“Um, let me get back to you on that, OK? I’ll call you later. Bye, McGee.”

Tony ends the call and sits there drinking his coffee for a minute. He’s not in an alternate universe. And it’s true. He’s not that freaked out anymore about Jeanne Benoit showing up again. He doesn’t actually love her anymore. The pain that he originally felt when he first laid eyes on her again at IDG seems to have faded into a faraway ache. How weird is that? But his anxiety doesn’t abate, and there is a different pain in his chest now. The pain of having confessed his feelings to Gibbs.

He gets off the bed, uses the head and brushes his teeth. His brain is buzzing with all the things that happened last night – the whole return of Jeanne and their mission to rescue Jeanne’s husband doesn’t seem that important anymore. More pressing is the issue of his conversation with Gibbs last night. Oh god, the things he said to Gibbs! And _how_ he said the things he said? Fuck! And if he recalled correctly, Gibbs had had to bathe him (and had stroked his cock in the bath). Oh god, Gibbs’ hand on him had been… Tony’s mind shies away from how it had felt to be stroked so intimately by his boss. Then Gibbs spooning him in his bed, and that they’d kissed. Multiple times. Gibbs had kissed him a few minutes ago, in fact, and told him he’d loved him. And Gibbs had called him _beautiful_. His brain rushes to wrap itself around this, process all of it, make sense of it, and so far not succeeding at all.

He almost jumps out of his skin when his phone rings. It is Bishop, checking to see how he is doing. He answers the phone, assures her that he’s fine and as quickly as he can gets rid of her, sitting on the bed with his now empty coffee cup.

He calls Abby next, and assures her that he is fine as well. And yes, Gibbs is still at his apartment. No, it’s all fine, he doesn’t need to talk about Jeanne Benoit right now. Finally he manages to hang up, rubbing his face tiredly.

Gingerly he peeks out to the living room. Gibbs is sitting on his sofa, reading one of the books from his bookshelves, his reading glasses perched on his nose. He is wearing one of Tony’s OSU t-shirts. It looks good on him.

“Hey,” he says, clearing his throat.

Gibbs looks up and smiles at him. A real smile. As if he is pleased to see Tony. “There’s more coffee if you want?”

Tony nods and trots into the kitchen to pour himself another mug. “Do you need another cup, Boss?” he calls without looking over his shoulder.

“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to call me Boss at home?” Gibbs is suddenly right behind him, making him jump and yelp.

“I-I thought that was only in bed?” he manages to squeak out.

“That’s right,” Gibbs smiles, “but I think it can be expanded to anytime we’re not at work.”

Tony nods, eyes wide. Gibbs wraps an arm around his waist and kisses his cheek. “You’re so cute when you’re like this.”

“I don’t understand,” Tony finally says, “why are you still here?”

“I told you I would be here when you woke up, Remember?”

Tony nods. “I remember. I guess I’m confused.”

“Wondering why I haven’t gone back to being a bastard?”

Tony purses his lips and raises an eyebrow. “Pretty much.”

“Because I’m done doing that to you outside of work,” Gibbs says, his eyes serious. “I hurt you, and I told you I’m not going to do that to you again.”

“But…” Tony doesn’t even know how to respond to that. He remembers now, how many times Gibbs apologized to him the night before. Actual apologies that did not get taken back or twisted around. Apparently the rules are going out the window now.

“Wanna sit and talk? Or are you hungry?” Gibbs gently takes Tony’s arm and leads him to his sofa, settling down next to him, sitting such that their thighs are touching. Tony feels like he’s at a decided disadvantage since he is barechested and clad only in his boxers.

Gibbs smiles to himself – Tony looks as wide-eyed and skittish as a colt. It’s not often that he gets this reaction out of the usually smooth and unflappable Tony.

“Feeling overwhelmed?”

Tony nods silently.

“Want me to back off?”

Tony’s eyes widen even more, and slowly he shakes his head. No, he might be freaking out but Gibbs’ thigh brushing against his is distracting and really, really nice.

“Drink your coffee. Then get dressed – you must be starving. We can eat at the diner.”

Tony nods, and Gibbs runs his fingers through Tony’s hair. Tony closes his eyes and unconsciously leans into the touch, sighing contentedly. Gibbs gently pulls him into his arms and Tony settles his head on Gibbs’ shoulder, trying not to feel too awkward.

“This OK?” Gibbs asks him gently.

Tony nods and sips his coffee, not even caring that he’d forgotten to put sugar or hazelnut creamer. He relaxes against Gibbs’ chest, still hardly believing what is happening.

“Did I actually do all that whining last night?” he finally says.

“Weren’t whining. You were hurting. It was justified.”

“This is really weird, B.. J-Jethro.”

“But kind of nice, right?”

“Do you think so?”

Gibbs hums his answer and tightens the arm around Tony. “Got no complaints.”

Tony smiles up at him. “Me, too.”

“There’s that smile,” Gibbs smiles back at him. “You really scared me last night. Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I was so out of it,” Tony says quietly.

“You were,” Gibbs agrees, rubbing his hands gently up and down Tony’s arm.

“I see you’re wearing one of my shirts.”

“You mind?”

“Nope,” Tony grins. “You look great in it.”

Gibbs smiles and caresses Tony’s face. “Glad you approve.”

“So where do we go from here?”

Gibbs sighs. “I’m guessing we should probably take it slow,” he says, “we can go get something to eat, and you can think about what you want to happen with us.”

“Do you want me to transfer to another team?”

“Not unless you want to.”

“I don’t. I like being your senior field agent.”

“Good. I feel safer when you’re on my six.”

“You do?

Gibbs nods.

Tony’s smile is almost blinding. “OK. So lunch first.”

Gibbs smiles, presses a kiss on his lips and tells him to get dressed. Tony dresses quickly but carefully, choosing a well-worn pair of jeans that he knew made his ass look good, and a simple black t-shirt. He looks at his face - there are still bags under his slightly blood-shot eyes and he is in desperate need of a shave but he doesn't feel like shaving. His hair is completely crazy so he ends up just spiking it up, a look that makes him look scruffily put together without looking like he was trying too hard. He keeps wanting to pinch himself – is he actually caring about his clothes and hair because Gibbs – no, Jethro – was taking him out to lunch? He grins at himself in the mirror. Maybe he is dreaming but at this point he doesn’t want to wake up.

He slips sneakers on his feet and when he comes out of the bedroom, Gibbs’ appreciative once-over makes him grin and preen a little. They grab keys, weapons, badges, and jackets and head out. The drive over to Gibbs’ favorite diner is fairly quiet, with Tony stealing glances at Gibbs and admiring his profile, while the older man drives, a quiet grin on his face.

Gibbs takes Tony’s hand in his as they walk away from the car. When they step in the diner, Tony quickly pulls away from Gibbs’ hand when they see Abby waving them over. She is seated at a booth.

She pounces on Tony and hugs him hard. “I was worried about you, mister,” she tells him. “I figured the Bossman would bring you here to eat after you woke up. So I came over so I could see you for myself.” She looks him up and down. “You look tired, Tony.”

“I just woke up,” Tony sounds defensive.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I like your new look,” she gently pats his stubbled face, feeling the bristly hair on his chin, so different from his normally clean shaven face.

Tony nods and lets her push him into the booth next to Gibbs so she can sit across from them and look at both of her men. Elaine comes by with coffees for everyone and to let them know she would be bringing them their food shortly. Both Tony and Abby know that they don’t need to order and that Elaine will bring them just the right thing.

Abby keeps the chatter up at lunch and Tony is silent throughout, only smiling occasionally at Abby when it looks like a response is expected from him. He gets the feeling that Abby kind of expected that he would be quiet. He knows that she is still concerned about the fact that Jeanne Benoit has resurfaced and is trying to understand how Tony is taking it all.

Tony sighs and rubs his face, suddenly overwhelmed again. Gibbs is sitting next to him, their thighs are brushing against each other and their arms are, as well. He likes it, he really does, but a very large part of him does not trust that this, too, will be yanked away from under him, like every other relationship that he has ever had in his life. Gibbs’ declaration of love feels far away and fragile.

“Tony?” Abby calls him.

“What?” he looks up from the spot on the table that he had been staring at.

“I don’t think you’re OK,” she says carefully. “I really don’t.”

“I’m fine.”

Abby blows out a frustrated breath. “You know that I don’t believe you when you use that word. Fine doesn’t mean what you think it means, the way you use it.”

Tony looks down again. “Abby…” he says softly, his tone pleading.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Tony sees Gibbs’ hands moving, and then Abby’s respond in kind.

“I’m right here, you know,” he snaps. Pushing his plate away, he stands abruptly. “Hitting the head. So you can talk amongst yourselves. Without using your hands.”

He walks away angrily. Gibbs sighs. “You need to go easy on him for the next few days,” he warns Abby. “I don’t think he can take too much more drama right now.”

Abby hangs her head. “Got it, Bossman,” she says softly, and looks at him, her puppy dog eyes sad. “I just want to make him feel better.”

“I know. I’ll take care of him,” Gibbs tells her.

Abby smiles. “I know you will. He won’t disobey you, Boss,” she says happily, “you’ll have him back to normal in no time at all!”

Gibbs suppresses the doubts that threaten him. After last night, he is not sure what he can do or say to Tony, after all he couldn’t just order the man out of his despair, or could he? Stranger things have been known to happen – he wonders if ordering Tony firmly “You will cheer up,” would work. It had worked when he ordered the man not to die, so many years ago.

Abby eyes Gibbs, noticing that he is wearing an OSU t-shirt. She frowns but chooses to stay silent. Tony returns in a few minutes, his expression blank but his eyes are sad. Abby reaches across the table and puts her hand over one of his. “I’m sorry, Tony. You don’t need me bugging you right now.”

Tony shrugs wordlessly, but he doesn’t take his hand away from hers. They continue their meal, although Tony is silent and withdrawn, playing with his food more than actually eating it. When it is time to leave, Abby presses a kiss to his cheek.

“It’ll be OK, Tony,” she whispers into his ear, “we’re here for you. We’ll help you get through this. You’re not alone, you hear me?”

Tony nods, although he only meets her gaze fleetingly.

“Love you, mister,” she whispers, and Tony nods awkwardly. Suddenly everyone is saying the L word to him. Although he has always known that Abby cares for him and loves him like a brother, and of course he has loved her like a sister for as long as he has known her, just hearing these declarations after his breakdown in front of Gibbs last night is almost abrasive. Like life is trying to make a point. But what that point is, he does not know.

In the car with Gibbs, he feels those intense blue eyes staring at him. Gibbs has started the car but not yet started driving. Tony resists for as long as he can before he caves and looks at Gibbs.

“What happened? You seemed OK this morning, maybe a little confused but not… sad again. You’re sad now. Is it Jeanne?”

Tony frowns and shrugs. “Maybe partly. But not really. I guess.”

“Then why?”

Tony bites his lips. “It’s just – well, I have my coping mechanisms. But you’re throwing me off. I just don’t know if…” he breaks off, frowning.

“If what?”

Tony is unable to voice it. That he does not know how to open up and trust Gibbs with this, with his heart. If he can trust that this is real, that this isn’t some strange whim, that he won’t be forgotten in a few days like he usually is. By everyone. He trusts Gibbs with his life, of course, and at work and in the field that trust is paramount. But now, trusting that Gibbs won’t stomp on his heart or throw him away, as he has done before, this is uncharted territory. Tony is not sure of anything in the non-work realm with Gibbs beyond hanging out in the basement and cowboy steaks.

“Tony?”

The green eyes meeting Gibbs’ blue ones are uncertain and pained. Gibbs is taken aback at the depth of pain that he still sees. He reaches over and puts his hand over Tony’s.

“We’ll work it out, whatever’s bothering you,” he says gently. “You’re not alone in this. You heard Abby. She loves you. And I love you. I’ll do whatever you need me to do. OK?”

Tony blinks. A spark of hope in his eyes, but still the fear and uncertainty threaten to overwhelm him.

“Whatever you need, OK?” Gibbs’ eyes are calm, the blue depths unwavering.

Tony nods.

Gibbs holds his gaze for several long moments, still unhappy with Tony’s reaction. “Home?” he asks.

Another nod.

“OK,” Gibbs puts the car in gear and they start moving. “Hey?”

Tony turns his head, eyes questioning.

“All those times I told you to cut the yabba yabba?”

Tony nods uncertainly.

“I take them all back. I don’t like it when you’re quiet. You worry me.”

A small grin teases at the corner of Tony’s lips. “Yeah?”

Gibbs gently places a hand on the back of Tony’s neck, stroking softly. “Yeah.”

Tony flashes him a shy grin which makes the older man’s heart flutter for a moment by the sheer honesty of it. Maybe there is a reason why Tony needs his masks. Without them the intensity of his emotions and his personality, already a big one on a regular day, is overwhelming.

Tony remains silent the rest of the drive back to his apartment. He thanks Gibbs for the ride and climbs out and is surprised when Gibbs exits the car and locks the door.

“W-what..?”

Gibbs glares at him.

“You’re coming up with me?”

Eyebrow raised.

“Right, of course you are, Boss,” Tony bites his lips.

“Jethro.”

“Huh?”

“Are we at work?”

“N-no?”

“Then, we agreed you would call me Jethro.”

“Right,” Tony nods, eyes wide. “You’re serious about that.”

“As a heart attack.”

“Or PTSD.”

They grin at each other then, the tension between them somewhat relieved. Gibbs gestures with his chin, and both men continue up to Tony’s apartment. Tony throws his keys in the bowl, hangs up his jacket and Gibbs’ and puts his gun in his gun safe before heading to the kitchen.

“Coffee? Or beer?” he asks.

“Coffee.”

He busies himself with the coffeemaker while Gibbs stands, leaning against the kitchen doorway, watching him.

“Took forever to figure that thing out this morning.”

Tony throws a grin at Gibbs. “It is kind of complicated. I can even make a cappuccino if you want. Not that that’s what you’d want. But the point is I could. Make a cappuccino.”

“Do you want a cappuccino?”

“Never drink the stuff,” Tony shudders.

“That thing from your dad?”

Tony shrugs and makes a face. “He thinks buying me stuff makes up for years of neglect. He doesn’t really know better.”

“You see him often?”

“Every month or so.”

“How is that going?”

Tony sighs. “Sometimes it’s great. Others…” he purses his lips, “I have to stop myself from strangling him.”

“Yeah. Mostly I just want to punch him in the face.”

Tony laughs, surprised. “Really? You guys seemed to get along last time. And you’re always encouraging me to fix our relationship.”

“Can’t choose your family. Only father you’ll get.”

“I know. So I don’t strangle him no matter how much I want to.”

“It’s why I haven’t punched him in the face. Yet.”

Tony grins at the ‘yet’ part.

“You giving him money?”

Tony pouts. “He’s not allowed to ask me anymore.”

“But are you?”

Tony sighs. “Not as much as he’d like.”

Gibbs sighs and to Tony’s surprise, he walks over and pulls Tony in for a tight hug. “You’re a good son.”

“I’m a fucking pushover,” Tony says in a defeated tone, his arms going around Gibbs.

“No. You just love him.”

“It’s a good thing he can’t seem to stop calling me Junior even though he knows I hate it. Because when he does, I’m less likely to wire him money,” self-consciously Tony tries to pull away from the embrace but Gibbs holds him in place, turning his face into Tony’s neck.

“You always were a glass half full person,” Gibbs says softly, breathing in the younger man’s intoxicating scent. He begins nuzzling at Tony’s neck, rubbing his nose and his lips on the stubbled skin. Tony’s indrawn breath and involuntary moan instantly makes him hard. He opens his mouth and sucks on an enticing bit of Tony’s neck as the younger man’s head falls back, exposing more neck.

“Fuuck…” Tony breathes softly, trying to bite back his moan.

Gibbs’ fingers are in Tony’s hair and he tugs at it until he has access to Tony’s lips. The kiss is thorough – he explores every inch of Tony’s mouth with his tongue, and when Tony responds back, tongues dueling, and god, the sounds that the younger man makes – breathless moans, needy whimpers, just fuels his desire. Somehow he manages to keep his hands from roaming over Tony’s body, even though he has one leg in between Tony’s and they are rubbing their erections against each other’s thighs.

Finally, regretfully, Gibbs pulls away, ignoring Tony’s whimper. He puts his forehead against Tony’s for a long moment until he stops breathing hard.

“Tony,” he says, “I really want this, I want you. Feel how much I want you?” he grinds his erection against Tony’s leg, and Tony moans, his hand moving down to cup the bulge. Gibbs gently takes his hand and kisses it.

“But…?” Tony says, eyes closed, his tone tired, and Gibbs realizes that he is braced for rejection.

“Listen to me. Told you last night. I’m never throwing you away. Never.”

Tony’s eyes open in surprise and confusion.

“Let’s sit,” Gibbs takes Tony’s hand and leads him back to the living room where they sit down. Even though Tony tries to move away and establish space between them, Gibbs moves right up to him, until Tony finally gives in and allows himself to be pulled into Gibbs’ arms although he refuses to meet Gibbs’ gaze.

“Look at me,” the older man asks softly. “Please.”

Startled, Tony turns his green eyes, meeting Gibbs’ icy blue ones. “You never say please,” he whispers.

“I will to you,” Gibbs says, his eyes serious. “I need you to listen. I love you. And I know you love me. But you’re still going through things. At the diner, I felt it when you stopped being there with me. You withdrew from me. I felt your doubt. Your anxiety. Your fear.” He cups Tony’s face and gently strokes the stubbled cheeks. “I felt you just waiting for me to forget about you. Pretend like last night never happened.”

Tony tries to look away, but Gibbs’ hold on his cheek is firm, albeit gentle.

“You’ve been hurt all your life. You expect it. I get it now,” Gibbs says. “You’re not unlovable, Tony. I love you. But what I don’t want to do is jump into your bed – no matter how much I want to – without you really believing how I feel about you. That I love you. That I don’t ever want to live without you in my life.”

Confusion floods Tony’s eyes again, and doubt.

“When we were watching you in Sudan on the satellite, and it was so close, all I could think of was that I wasn’t there to watch your six. And if you didn’t make it home," Gibbs' voice breaks, "it would be all over for me.”

“You sent the cavalry though,” Tony says softly. “Thank you for that.”

“I was almost too late.”

“But you weren’t. You saved us.”

Gibbs shudders. “It was too close. I don’t want to live without you.”

Tony takes in the serious gaze and nods slowly.

“I will never ever get tired of you, or ever want to throw you away. I don’t want you to throw yourself away. I want you in my life. I want you in my bed. I _want_ you,” Gibbs’ intensity makes Tony breathe hard. “I love you. And I will prove it to you. And then…” the heat in Gibbs’ gaze, so different from his usual icy glare warms Tony to the core, “and then, when you believe in me, and believe in what we’re starting here, then I will fuck your pretty ass as much as you want. As long as you love me, I will never let you go.”

Tony’s breaths come in short, shallow pants, and his eyes are wide. Gibbs smiles – he has retreated to the skittish colt again.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he groans and presses a chaste kiss to Tony’s lips. “Do you believe what I’m saying?”

Tony nods wordlessly. He wets his lips with his tongue – the move doing things to Gibbs’ cock – and takes a deep breath. “I believe you Jethro.”

Gibbs smiles and relaxes his firm hold on Tony’s face, caressing the cheeks tenderly instead. “Good. And because I don’t think you’ll be able to convince yourself that this is real when I leave, I’m going to take you home tonight, make you cowboy steaks for dinner, and hold you while you sleep like I did last night. OK?”

Tony nods slowly. “I can live with that.”

“Good.”

“You really do love me?”

“I love you. Really do.”

“I love you too.”

Gibbs smiles. “Good. Pack your stuff for a few days.”

Tony’s eyes widen. “A few _days_?? No. Just for tonight, Jethro.”

“I almost lost you, Tony. And after Jeanne, and what happened in Sudan, and last night, I’ll feel better if I can keep my eye on you for a few days.”

“I am a grown man. Been standing on my own since I was a kid.”

“Please,” Gibbs takes Tony’s hand, his thumb rubs soothing circles on Tony’s wrist, his other hand going to his own chest, patting it gently, a reminder to Tony of the chest pains Gibbs has been experiencing. “I know you’ve had to fend for yourself all your life. Let me look after you, at least for the next few days. For me.”

Tony blows out a loud breath and glares at Gibbs, wondering if this is a deliberate move to play on his worry about Gibbs’ chest pains. But those blue eyes are pleading. He sighs. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

Tony nods and begins packing. Suits and dress shirts in a garment bag. T-shirts, underwear, sweatpants, shorts, running gear, toiletries in his go bag. He runs through the list in his head.

“Your phone is ringing,” he hears Gibbs yell. “It’s McGee!”

“Answer it and freak him out for me, will you?” Tony grins mischievously to himself as he digs around to pick out a shoes for work, running shoes. Socks! He needs socks!

“Yeah, Gibbs.”

“Uh…Boss?”

“Yeah.”

“Uhm…” Gibbs can practically see his junior agent looking at his phone to ensure that he had dialed the right person. Tony walks in carrying socks in his hands, and Gibbs is delighted to see that mischievous glint in those green eyes. Tony reaches over, taps the phone to put it on speaker and sits on the sofa, one eyebrow raised and a grin tugging at his lips.

“McGee?” Gibbs says.

“Um, I was trying to call Tony?”

“This is his phone.”

“Right. Uh, he’s not asleep again is he? He said he didn’t have a concussion when I asked him earlier.”

“He’s fine. No concussion.”

“So um, i-is he, um, th-there?” McGee is starting to stutter, the way he used to when he really was a probie.

Gibbs takes in the predatory smile on Tony’s face and grins at him. “One sec,” he tells McGee and hands Tony the phone with a stern glare.

Tony grins and nods. He takes it off speaker and takes it into the bedroom. “Hey Probie.”

“W-why does Gibbs keep answering your phone?”

“He’s bossy like that?”

“Seriously, Tony!”

“What’s up, McGoo?” Tony ignores the question, changing the subject.

McGee sighs. “Look, Abby called me.”

Tony sits on his bed and groans, dropping his head in his hands. “I’m fine!” he says grumpily.

“Well, she’s worried about you. And you know her. She wants me to – in her words – ‘get eyes on you’. She didn't like what she saw today, even though she’s sure the Boss will fix you.”

“Abby has already got her eyes on me today,” Tony answers tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well. I haven’t,” McGee says softly.

“What?”

“I was there, Tony. I saw how you were with her. On the plane. In Sudan. And then coming home with her husband.”

Tony stifles a sigh. “Please, Tim. I need you to drop this. OK?”

The use of McGee’s first name worries the junior agent even more. “Tony…”

“I know,” Tony says, “I know how I was. I know you saw it. But I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m dealing with it. Please?”

“I just worry about you, Tony.”

Long silence. “Well, shit, Probie. Now I don’t know what to say,” Tony mutters, perhaps more honestly than he would have liked.

The silence drags on. “Look, Tony, you want to come over and have dinner with me? Delilah is working late tonight. Just you and me. I’ll let you drink as much as you want and crash in the guest room.”

Tears prick at the back of Tony’s eyes. “Shit…” he tries to swallow the lump in his throat.

“You don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to. I just don’t think you should be alone in your apartment.”

Tony scrubs his face with his hands, swiping at his eyes, blowing his breath out, trying to get a grip on his emotions. “Gibbs tonight,” he manages to say.

“You eating with the Boss tonight?”

Tony grunts.

“OK. Then can I talk to him again?”

“What?”

“Let me talk to Gibbs again please.”

“What? Why?”

“Just hand the phone to him, Tony,” McGee says patiently.

Tony looks up and sees that Gibbs is standing in the doorway with a cup of coffee in his hand. He holds the phone out. “McGee wants to talk to you.”

Gibbs looks puzzled but he walks in and grabs the phone from Tony. “Yeah?”

“Boss? Are we on speaker?”

“Nope.”

“Good. Look, Abby is really worried and she asked me to check in with Tony. But if you have him tonight, then I won’t worry about it and I’ll tell Abby the same.”

“I got him.”

“I conked out when I got home yesterday – slept like the dead forever. So I didn’t get to call him until this morning.”

“That’s OK. I was here.”

“Good. Do you want me to take him tomorrow night?”

“Nope.”

“Really, I think we can figure out some kind of schedule so he doesn’t have to be alone for a few days. Abby’s in too. We can probably rope Bishop in for a few things although I doubt Tony will want to spend the night at her place.”

Gibbs smiles. His team is far more than a team. They are a family. “That’s good, Tim. I’ll take the first watch. Talk more tomorrow.”

“Got it, Boss.”

Gibbs ends the call and turns to see Tony frowning at him, leaning against the bedroom doorframe. “He’s worried about you.”

“He told me,” Tony sighs. What a strange twenty-four hour period. All these people caring about him.

“Done packing?”

“Gotta feed Kate and Ziva,” Tony gets the fish food and coos and babbles to his fish as he feeds them, making Gibbs smile. He packs his backpack with his laptop, a few DVDs, his book from the nightstand and looks around. His refrigerator is empty of fresh produce as he’d done that before leaving for South Sudan.

“Ready?”

Tony nods.

For the rest of the day, he hangs out at Gibbs’ house, watching movies on his laptop, sitting on the basement steps watching Gibbs work on his boat, enjoying steak and potatoes for dinner with him, and eventually falling asleep in Gibbs’ bed while reading his book. He wakes up when Gibbs slides into bed after a long late night session in the basement, smelling of fresh sawdust, and pulls him gently into his arms.

“Mmmmm. Smell good,” he mumbles sleepily, breathing in the comforting smell, tucking his head into Gibbs neck, one arm around Gibbs’ neck, one leg over Gibbs’.

Gibbs kisses the top of Tony’s head, inhales the enticing scent of Tony and his shampoo, and tries to lie still as Tony’s hot breath on his neck affects his dick. “Sleep, beautiful. Love you,” he tells the younger man, and puts his arms around him, rubbing his back soothingly. Tony moans, pulls himself even closer to Gibbs, and his breathing evens out again as he slips back to sleep.

Earning the right to be in Tony’s bed, to earn his trust, to then claim the man’s poor battered heart – it was definitely not going to be easy. So much damage has been done to the younger man, beginning with a neglect-filled childhood with his parents, and then an adulthood of betrayal and loss. But Gibbs knows that he will prevail. And as he stifles the moan that threatens to escape with every hot exhale on his neck, and the feel of Tony’s bare skin on his (oh god, Tony’s sleeping naked in his bed and the length of his body is pressed right up against him), and his cock hardens with this stimulation, he knows that the rewards will be well worth it, in every way possible.

**Author's Note:**

> I have vague ideas about a possible third part to the series but have not fleshed it out or attempted it yet. I'm trying to not make Tony too whiny and helpless since that is not how I see Tony at all, so if I did write a third part, he would definitely need to get his head out of his ass :)


End file.
